Connecting the Dots
by The Ginger Midget
Summary: Ian runs into an old flame of his, and tries to see the Declaration on his own terms. Multi-fic one shot (if there is such a thing.) During "National Treasure."
1. Chapter 1

**It's good to be back. **

**I haven't written fanfiction in a while. I got busy, and unfortunately, this had to take a backseat. But I came up with this little drabble, so I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own National Treasure.**

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Ian walked down the hall of the National Achieves. He had just visited the Rotunda, and was disappointed. The Declaration of Independence had not been on display, as he had thought. Not that he didn't believe what Ben Gates told him, he just wanted to see it with his own eyes.

As he walked down the hall at an easy gait, he saw a woman. She was wearing a white, short-shelved blouse, a kaki, knee-length skirt, and tan heels. She was a carrying a stack of stuff that was composed of manila file folders, loose papers, and a binder or two. Her hair was piled at the back of her head in a sloppy, chaotic bun. There was a number two pencil randomly stuck in the mess of hair, as if it was holding the entire thing in place.

Ian smiled and picked up his pace. "Hey Louisa!"

The woman turned to see who was calling her, and smiled when she was the tall, broad, sandy-haired Brit jogging toward her. "Hey Ian!"

Ian stopped in front of her, panting a bit from the length of hallway that he had to cover. "Louisa," he swallowed. "What are _you_ doin' here?"

"I work here." Louisa said, smiling and clutching the stack of paper products to her chest.

"Oh really?" Ian smiled and gave a half-laugh. Both were surprised to see each other, and they weren't quite sure how to react.

"Yeah; I work in the Achieves."

"Really? Well, that's cool, that's cool." Ian straightened up and swung his arms, letting one fist hit the other hand. There was a pause.

"What brings you here to D.C.?" Louisa asked.

"Oh, you know, just _wanderin'_ about. Yeah, I came here to see the Declaration." Ian said. "It wasn't on display, though."

"I think it's having routine maintenance done on it today," said Louisa. "Sorry."

"Ah, it's okay." Ian looked around. "Unless. . ."

Louisa tiled her head. "Unless what?"

"Oh, it's nothin'. Nothin' at all."  
"Ian, what is it?"

"Well, you work here," he gestured around at the hallway. "So, maybe you could get me a . . . backstage pass, yeah?" He gave her a hopeful look.

It took a minute for Louisa to understand what he was asking. "No." She shook her head. "Nope. I can't do it."

"Aw, c'mon, Louisa . . ."

"Ian, I'm not authorized to give access to the Preservation Room. It's not my department." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Well, it's a'right. I understand." Ian glanced at the stack of papers in her arms. "Those look heavy. Can I carry those for you?"

"Thanks," Louisa shifted the papers to a more manageable position. "But I got it."

Ian watched her walk away. He stuffed his hands in his pant pockets. "Right," he muttered, turned, and walked away.

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**reviews would be appreciated after my hiatus.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. I've been for a loooooooonnnngggg time. In complete honesty, I've missed this. So to make up for it, I've written a super-duper extra-long chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own National Treasure.**

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They had met in college. Ian was a wealthy, arrogant student from Camford, who came to D.C. on the study abroad program. Louisa was a studious, book smart young lady who had no time for ignorance, or pestering questions and remarks, namely from Ian. Somehow, they met in the middle and called it love.

It was a healthy courtship. It lasted as long as the semester, and then some. They tried a long-distance relationship, but it didn't work out.

Technically, they both broke it off, agreeing that maintaining their relationship over the Atlantic Ocean wasn't worth the effort. As far as Ian was concerned, that was why it ended.

But for Louisa, there was more to it. In the later months of their courtship, Ian had gotten into a habit of making degrading remarks about her studies. She had brushed it off at first, but as they got more and more frequent, she couldn't take it.

Ian's temper and manipulative nature prevented her from breaking up with him while he was in America. Once he flew back to England, she only had to wait for their relationship to deteriorate naturally.

That had been several years ago. Louisa hadn't known what he'd been up to in recent years, but her job prevented her from investigating him further. By the time her shift was over, she had almost forgotten about the encounter.

It was dark as Louisa walked back to her brownstone. The street lights and porch lights casted a gold light onto the sidewalk and lawns. It was quite.

Louisa fished her keys from inside her purse. She stepped up to the front door and went to insert the key into the lock when the bush to her left rustled. Louisa glanced at it, and then jumped when Ian emerged.

"Ian!" she said. "You startled me."

"Sorry 'bout that, love." Ian stepped up onto the porch. "I was wonderin' if I could talk to you."

"Is it about the Declaration?"

". . . yes . . ."

"Then no."

"Aw, c'mon Louisa. Just me out." Ian leaned up against the side of the house.

Louisa looked at him. The way he was standing, and the look he was giving her reminded her of the way he used to wait for after class and wanted a kiss.

_Don't invite him in,_ said the voice inside her head. _Don'tdoit, don'tdoit-_

She sighed. "Come on in."

_Darn it!_

The lights were off, just as she had left them. Louisa held the door open while Ian stepped inside. After shutting the door, she pulled off her heels and padded down the tiled hallway to the kitchen.

The overhead light revealed a white and tan kitchen. The appliances and sink were lined up against the wall, with cupboards filling in the empty spaces. An island counter sat in front of them, rectangular and squat. Bar stools sat opposite of the appliances. As they walked in, Ian saw that the kitchen morphed into a dining room, with a white square table and white cushiony chairs. A twisty, multi light bulb chandelier hung unlit above the table.

Louis set her work bag and her purse on the floor by the door. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Coffee."

She opened up a cabinet and pulled out a coffee can. (She vaguely recalled that Ian only drank coffee, and that he never really got hooked on tea.) As she spooned the coffee into the filter, she looked over her shoulder. "Well," she said. "Talk."

Ian had sat himself on a stool, one foot hanging on a rung. He watched her. "I'm fundin' a . . . _project_ for a friend of mine."

Louisa turned on the coffee machine and turned around, leaning her elbows on the island.

"He's interested in seein' the Declaration – says that there's something special about it and I jus' want to see if what he says is true."

Louisa let that sink in. "What's so special about it, besides the obvious facts?"

"It has . . . a certain, _quality_ that is _useful_ for the line of business he's in."

"Mmm." Louisa nodded, feigning understanding. "I see. And _you_ want _me_ to get _you_ into the National Archives to see the Declaration."

"Yes."

"Well," Louisa straightened up. "Honestly, I don't think I can help. You need a recommendation, and a pass from someone who works from that department, and I don't _know_ anyone _from_ there. While it's nice of you to come and ask me, I think that you're better off talking to someone else."

The phone on the wall rang. Louisa walked over and picked it up. "Hullo? . . . Oh hey! Did you get my e-mails? . . . No? I sent them this afternoon . . . Well, maybe you should look again."

Louisa waked over to the coffee pot and took a mug from a hook on a rack that was attached to the wall. Her head was tilted to the side as she listened to whoever was on the other end.

"I know I sent them. Did you check you spam?" She poured coffee into the mug. "Well, the system has been acting goofy the past few days; maybe it didn't recognize my address." Louisa reached across the counter and set the full mug down in front of Ian. "Well, I don't know what happened to them." She turned to the side, arms pulled in close to her body. She tapped her foot.

Ian picked up the mug of coffee and sipped at it. He was watching Louisa, and couldn't help but notice how pretty she was. He smiled a little bit behind the cup.

"Hey, do me a favor, and check your e-mail again, okay? Thanks." Louisa hung up the phone.

She turned back to Ian. "Sorry 'bout that."

Ian set the mug down. "It's awright, love." He folded his hands on the counter and leaned forward. "So, what've you been up since we broke up?"

"Ummm . . ." Louisa gestured to the area around her. "_This?_"

The phone rang again. A little more than annoyed, Louisa snatched up the phone. "Hello? . . . What'd you _mean_ you can't find them?" She walked into the next room and flicked on a light switch.

The room was painted beige with white and khaki-colored furniture. Louisa walked over the side of the room where a computer sat on a desk covered with small, neat stacks of papers and file folders. She bent over the chair and turned on the computer.

"I'm checking to see if I sent them to you, which I'm sure I did."

Ian got up and leaned against the door frame. He glanced around at the room's furnishings, and finally settled his gaze on Louisa.

Louisa pulled her e-mail up on her screen. "I'm looking at it right now . . . See, I _did_ sent those e-mails . . . _Yes_, they were sent to you! . . . Well _I_ don't know what you did with them! . . . Jake . . . Jake, wait – Oooohhhh!"

Louisa pulled the phone away from her ear and hit the red button. She was mad, and frustrated, and annoyed. Ian could see that.

Ian softly walked up behind her. "Louisa?" he asked gently.

"What?" she turned around, exasperated.

Ian cupped his hands around her face, leaned down, and kissed her.

It only lasted a few seconds. Louisa dropped the phone. Her hands curled around his wrists. He pulled away.

"Ian?" she said.

"Mmm?"

"Ian, you have to go."

It took a moment for this to sink in. "Aw, c'mon, love . . ."

"No, Ian," Louisa stepped back. "Just go."

Ian turned around and strode through the kitchen and hallway. He slammed the door on his way out.

Louisa stood in the same spot, contemplating what just happened.

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**Surely you must have _something_ to say after all that. Drop a review in that box _riiiiight_ there. **


	3. Chapter 3

**So, this is my last chapter. I just wanna say thanks for reading. I hope that you enjoyed it. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own National Treasure.**

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Louisa soon forgot about Ian, since she was getting ready for the gala that was a few days away. She was actually excited about it, and had even bought a new dress for the occasion.

The party took a completely different course, though, when the FBI showed up. As the intentions of the bureau became clear, Louisa stood there wondering. Was it possible . . . that . . . _Ian?_ . . .

Louisa downed the rest of her drink, pushing it form her mind.

About a week later, Louisa sat down at her desk to the morning newspaper. She picked up her cup of coffee and began to sip at it while reading the headline.

"Man Arrested for Declaration Conspiracy"

Below was a picture of Ian being arrested.

Louisa spit out her coffee in surprise.

Her co-worker looked over at her with a quizzical look on her face. She then saw what Louisa was reading.

"Crazy, right? That guy actually tried to _steal_ the Declaration."

Louisa nodded, to dumb founded to speak.

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**Drop me a line if you have any comments.**


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